


a wolf promises

by plantagenet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, are my greatest weakness, but the ship this ship could have been!, fairy tale aus, i swear i have other ships, rule of threes is fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantagenet/pseuds/plantagenet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The capture of Jeyne Westerling's hand as a fairy tale. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>"Let me in," the wolf said, "for I am thirsty."</p>
<p>"Go home to your forest," the girl told him.</p>
<p>"Let me in and, I promise, I shall never hunt on your lands again."</p>
<p>The girl thought for a while and she remembered how wolves are all liars, and that they must always be hunters, so she closed the door and went away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a wolf promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siddals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siddals/gifts), [ithacas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithacas/gifts).



There was a wolf at the castle door, and it had been howling for days.  The sound of it chased the rabbits from the undergrowth and the water from the rivers. The warrens were empty and the ground ran dry and the castle began to crumble.

 

"You must never let the wolf inside," her mother told her, “for wolves are all liars and they will always break their promises. Wolves belong in forests with wild creatures. They do not belong at feasts, nor do they dress in fine clothes."

 

"But," said the girl, " _we_ have none of those things."

 

Her mother said nothing, only turned away, and the wolf went on howling.

 

It howled all through the night, and in the morning, the girl opened the castle door, just a

crack, and looked into its face. In her mind she had made him more frightening that he truly was: just a great, gray wolf with blood in its claws and a spangled crown about its ears. She was not afraid.

 

"Let me in," the wolf said, "for I am thirsty."

 

"Go home to your forest," the girl told him.

 

"Let me in and, I promise, I shall never hunt on your lands again."

 

The girl thought for a while and she remembered how wolves are all liars, and that they must always be hunters, so she closed the door and went away.

 

The wolf did not leave. Snow began to fall and the forests all went bare. In the castle, the girl and her kin ate roots and drank wine that tasted of vinegar.

 

"You must never let the wolf inside," her mother said again, hitching at her collar. "Wolves belong in caves with the bones of their prey. They will always break their promises. They do not belong at the blazing fireside, nor do they listen to the sweet songs of singers."

 

"But," the girl said, "we have none of those things either." She shivered, but her mother said nothing. She only turned away, and the wolf went on howling.

 

It howled all through the morning, and at noon the girl opened the castle door, wide enough to feel the snowflakes falling upon her breast, and looked into its face. Again, it was not so frightening as she had imagined: just a lean, gray wolf with blood around its mouth and a spangled crown about its ears. She was not afraid.

 

"Let me in," the wolf said, "for I am hungry."

 

"Go back to your cave," the girl told him.

 

"Let me in and, I promise, I will keep all other beasts from your door."

 

The girl thought for a while and she knew that wolves are all liars, and that they must always have packs, so she closed the door and went away.

 

Still, the wolf did not leave. Snow settled, and foxes and dogs picked through the fields. In the castle, the girl and her kin ate coarse bread and drank wine that was practically vinegar.

 

"You must never let the wolf inside," her mother said. "Wolves belong in the snow, when ice hangs teeth and claws from every branch and every gutter. They do not belong in well-dressed hallways, nor do they sleep in warm feather beds."

 

"But," the girl said, "We have none of those things either. We do none of those things. What sort of beasts are we?”

 

Her mother flinched, and for a moment, the girl thought she meant to slap her. Instead, the lady only gave her a look to fit the winter and turned away. And still, the wolf went on howling. 

 

It howled all through the day, and at night the girl's mother followed her to the door and together they opened it wide and looked into its face. The beast had not shrunk in her mind, but it was not so bad: just a skinny, gray wolf with blood flowing from its side, and a spangled crown about its ears. The girl was not afraid, but she was a little sad.

 

"Let me in," the wolf said, "for I am wounded."

 

"Go back to your home in the snow and ice," the girl's mother said.

 

"Please," the wolf panted. "Let me in and, I promise, I shall make you as rich as you are now poor."

 

The girl's mother did not stop to think. Perhaps she did not remember that wolves can be liars and thieves and that they break their promises. She did not close the door.

 

"Let the wolf inside," she said to her daughter. “Take him to your room and clean his wounds. Let him rest his crown awhile."

 

The girl was stricken but she said nothing. She lead the great wolf into the castle, through naked hallways and past guttering fires, to where her straw bed was waited on the bare wooden floor.

 

She brought cotton strips and warm water to his side. She took the wolf's crown and set it down atop a clothes chest, then washed the blood from his fur. It was not such a big wolf as she had once thought. He was not so old, and not so strong.

 

"When I am well again, you shall be as rich as your are now poor," the wolf told her.

 

"And where am I to sleep," the girl asked, "with you in my bed?"

 

"Beats me," said the young wolf, which she thought was quite rude as she had hardly slept in weeks from his howling. She said as much but he was already asleep, so the girl locked the door and crept in with her sister.

 

The next day, the wolf was only a little better. The girl brought him bread and read to him. She cleaned his wounds and found a piece of antler buried deep in his side.

 

“Where is this from?” she asked. 

 

“There is a war inside the forest,” he told her. “A beast must go wild if he wants to survive.”

 

“The war is everywhere.” Her stomach ached for hunger. “Everywhere men are wild.”

 

"They are coming for my crown," the wolf answered a question she did not ask. _And wolves are all liars_ , the girl thought. Wolves have no enemies, but for man and the long blade of winter.

 

"You are safe here," she told him.

 

"I’m not," the wolf said. She locked the door and went away.

 

"Is he yet well?" her mother wanted to know. The girl shook her head.

 

"You must do more," she was told. "Do you want to be poor forever?"

 

_I would just like my bed back_ , the girl thought, but said nothing.

 

On the second day, the wolf's injuries were fresh again. The girl brought him wine with water and sang to him. She cleaned away the blood and found a lion’s tooth in his side.

 

“There are no lions left in these places,” she told him.

 

“Soon there will be no wolves.” 

 

"You are safe here,” she said. “I’m not going to let you die.”

 

“As if you know what you’re doing,” the wolf said, and the girl frowned. “There is only one thing to do with a wild beast that gets into a castle.”

 

“Your wound is nearly healed!”

 

“It’s not as easy as that.”

 

“Yes, it is.” She locked the door and left him be before he could argue with her again.

 

"Do you want to be poor forever?" her mother asked again.

 

_I just want everyone to be happy_ , the girl thought. _Myself included_.

 

She said nothing.

 

On the third day, the wolf was not in her bedroom. In his place lay a young man she had not seen before. His hair was a deep red and his eyes were blue. She thought him quite a warm sight for such a cold, dark winter.

 

"Did something happen?" she asked, as she stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest.

 

"It would appear so," the man said - but he was not a man, not truly. He still smiled like a little boy.

 

"I should have known," the girl said, simply. "Wolves do not usually talk."

 

"No," the man said, sadly.

 

"Then it is a curse?" she asked him. He shook his head.

 

"It is a choice."

 

"I have not saved you from some wickedness then? I did not cure your wild nature with my civility?" She sat down on the edge of her bed. “My healing hands and castle walls did not turn you back into your true form?” The man seemed amused. 

 

"I am still a wolf," he said, “if that is what you’re asking.”

 

"Oh, and what a trick," the girl laughed, her face breaking into a smile like ice on the river. "A man says he is a wolf. And yet, I know, that all wolves are liars and men just liars sometimes. How am I to know that in the end you are not just a lonely boy come in from the snow?"

 

He smiled with her.

 

"I suppose that is your choice."

 

She returned to her own bed again that night, but she was not alone. In the morning, she picked up the crown and aimed to make him king her own. He only took it from her hands and laid it in her thick black hair, and told her that it was her's to keep.

 

The bells rang in the frozen air that day. Scarlet carpets rimmed the halls, food lay heavy on the table and singers sang beside blazing firesides. And for a while, they were as rich, in wealth and in life and love, as they had been poor. 

 

But all vows grow teeth in wartime and, beyond the castle door, winter was raging on.

 

-

 

In the end, he proved a wolf, albeit a young one, and it was not winter that killed him, but man - and woman, though winter may have helped.

 

Muttering something about broken promises, her mother wrestled the beast’s crown from her head, though she screamed and cried and bit her in anguish. What happened to it, the girl did not know, but the lions, fearing stags, at least did not bid her back to the ruined castle he had knocked down and where he had crowned her queen in bedsheets. A wolf’s widow she may be, but she would not let them kill her. Winter, too, would prove a failed enemy.

 

At night, in the tower of her mother's new castle, with hallways lined bloodred in carpets, she wept and howled, but kept the cold at bay. And she slept, alone, in a warm feather bed, beneath the pelt of a great, gray wolf.


End file.
